


Better With Two, Brilliant With Three

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving the universe, Rose and the part-human Doctor quickly pick up where they left off, but the Doctor in brown is hesitant to rekindle physical intimacy. But when both Doctors cock up a confrontation with law enforcement that lands her in jail, they have to find a way to make it up to her together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS...
> 
> It was really, really difficult to research and write this, and get into this filthy of a headspace tbh... haha! I'm so sheltered and vanilla. Anyway not really much I can say, basically is what it says in the tags: ot3 goodness. 
> 
> I rated it explicit right off the bat, because it's definitely headed that way, but technically this chapter is more teen-ish... ish. Just so you don't get your hopes up too high!
> 
> I did decide to split it into 3 chapters. I just felt like 12k was a bit much for a oneshot, even pushing it for me, your neighborhood loquacious writer :P
> 
> Hope you guys like my first (and possibly only) attempt at this ultimate ot3! Rose and Ten squared! ;D

Rose kicks a bar of the gate sealing the prison cell with a thunderous metallic clang that echoes through the cave. Sharp throbs of agony immediately flare in her toes, and the the brawny guards headed for the exit burst into wolfish laughter. It had been more an outlet for frustration than an actual attempt to escape, but while the bones in her shin rattle with the shock of the impact, the heavy black steel barely vibrates at all. She feels even more helpless than before, and no less angry.

She’s going to kill them.

Grabbing her foot in both hands, she tries uselessly to soothe the stabbing pain radiating through her it as she limps on her good foot to the cobblestone wall.

“Gonna kick down the door, are you, love?” a raspy voice calls from deeper in the cell.

“Might do,” she bites back in the direction of the sound, hiding her surprise that she isn’t alone.

Firelight from the single torch outside the gate flickers dimly on the stained, dripping gray bricks of stone, but doesn’t quite filter to the back wall. She can barely make out four amorphous shadows huddled low to the ground opposite the door. Panic wells up in her gut at the possibility of who she may be sharing quarters with, that they may be in here for something much more sinister than she is.

Muted laughter comes from more than one of the dark figures. All of the tones are high-pitched, sounding far more likely female than male, and it’s a small comfort.

“Who are you?” she calls, fighting to project her voice steadily.

“People in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the familiar raspy voice replies. From the sound alone, she would guess it to be an older woman who’s smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for forty years. The sickly, hacking cough that follows the single phrase gives credence to that theory. “Same as you,” she finishes, gasping for breath.

Gulping down her nerves, she takes a few cautious steps deeper into the cell, and nearly falls on her arse when her shoe suddenly lurches forward on the floor. As she peers down to investigate the near-slip, she sees that a slimy liquid covers the discolored stone tiled floor. Suddenly the moldy, rotting urine stench of the place starts to make more sense. One hand firmly on the wall for support, she takes a few more steps towards the shapes. Further from the only source of light, her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness until she can see clothes and faces.

Finding them all nonthreatening, she breathes a sigh of relief and introduces herself.

“I’m Rose.”

\---

Lily is about as old as Rose’s mum, and has teal skin, pointed ears, and a figure that is unfamiliar to her, Qing is about her age and has the deep red complexion and round figure characteristic of the natives, and Jasmine and Ruth are olive-skinned humans that appear to have barely reached puberty.

Despite their vastly different origins, they all share two things in common with Rose: all female, and all thrown into jail for a stupid reason. Lily could no longer afford her cough medication and had borrowed an inhaler from a wealthy pharmacist in an emergency, Qing was an escort who failed to sufficiently please a client on the police force, and Jasmine and Ruth had crossed a street on foot without waiting for the proper signal.

And here she is, charged with impersonating a man, obstructing justice, and public indecency.

_“Women cannot wear trousers on Lycopenia!” the burly red bloke shouted at the three of them. He was in a black uniform with some sort of badge, and various weapons hung from a sling around his shoulder. Local law enforcement, she guessed._

_“Oh, uhm…” Rose spluttered, trying to find a way to apologize and explain that they’re from out of town. The officer stared at her like a wolf ready to attack its prey, both hands gripping onto unidentified objects on his torso, preparing to use them on her._

_“Say you are a man!” the Doctor in blue whispered frantically in her ear._

_Her mouth turned down in disgust and confusion, but she listened to him anyway, knowing he was right more often than wrong when it came to planets she’d never been to._

_She cleared her throat and announced: “I am a man,” in an octave lower than her normal speaking voice. The officer scratched his chin for a short moment, covered in thick, black stubble, and his nostrils flared._

_“Lies! I can smell the estrogen from here!” He marched a few steps towards them, angry creases forming on his forehead._

_“Uh-oh,” intoned the Doctor in brown. He muttered something about sense of smell to himself before he leaned closer to her, too._

_“Take off your trousers,” he urged, bumping her in the back with his elbow. “He’s offended, just take them off and apologize.”_

_She scrambled to unbutton and unzip her jeans and get them down her legs, and stepped out of them and bundled them over her knickers. “I’m sorry, sir,” she offered in her normal voice once more. “It won’t happen again.” She dipped her head in a gesture of respect._

_“Public indecency!?!” he bellowed, completely scandalized._

_His patience spent, he pulled out a chain from his hefty tool sling and zeroed in on Rose. Her two Doctors stepped in front of her and tried to reason with the bloke, ready to say whatever needed to be said in her defense. But the man was much more muscular than either Doctor, and shoved them both easily the ground to get to Rose. Before she knew it, she was in chains and slung over the thick man’s shoulder, watching as two more hulks of officers with crimson skin physically restrained her Doctors before they could catch up to her._

_Reasoning with her captor did no good whatsoever, nor did beating her fists against his rock-solid back. The Doctors’ screams of promises to save her faded from her hearing as she was carried through the city towards the castle, her nearly-naked bum on display to every citizen they passed._

Yep, she’s going to kill them.

\---

The squalid conditions start to get to her after about five hours. Her stomach growls loudly and her ankles and knees ache from pacing across the hard stone. But without trousers to protect her bum from the filthy ground, she doesn’t want to risk sitting down with the rest of her inmates.

Food arrives after the seventh, one piece of hard bread and a bowl of a cold porridge for each of the cell’s occupants. The porridge tastes like spoiled milk and it’s loose and chalky on her tongue, but she gets most of it down. She has no clue when the next offering of food may be, and she hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast this morning. But after she takes the first bite of her chunk bread, a dark green, flying roach-like insect flies out from a hole inside of it, and all of what she did manage to eat is retched onto floor in the far corner of the cell.

Nine hours pass before the sound of the Doctor’s voices calling her name reverberates down the stone corridors.

\---

“Rose, please,” the Doctor in blue pleads. “ _Please_ let me make it up to you.”

She spits the minty foam of toothpaste into the sink without even looking at him, then tosses back a half a cupful of mouthwash and starts swishing it around vigorously. It might take several rounds of this to get the stale taste out of her mouth, so she splutters the mouthwash into the basin as well and meets his eyes in the mirror.

“You can start by gettin’ me some food, I’m bloody starvin’,” she orders with a glare.

“Yes, okay. Of course.” He nods, and dashes from the loo.

She knows she’s being hard on them both, but the last ten-odd hours were nearly unbearable, and it was completely their fault. She hadn’t even wanted to come to this stupid planet, and their big egos and even bigger stupid mouths had landed her in jail for doing absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, they’d waltzed around the castle using nothing but rhetoric to inform the Elders of the police corruption in poorer neighborhoods and convince them to free the wrongly imprisoned citizens. Rose included.

All right. She concedes that they saved a lot of innocent people today because of the Doctors’ faux pas. And as a thank-you for uncovering the corruption in the lower rungs of law enforcement authority, they get to stay the night in the nicest suite in the castle. But she’s convinced they could have done all that without her having to get kidnapped and thrown into a putrid prison cell. She’s had enough of those for one lifetime, ta.

They had both already profusely apologized, and offered to do whatever she wanted to make it up to her. But she hadn’t been able to think of anything on the spot, so she had bit back her vitriol just enough to snap back at them she’d rather be left alone. As she expected, the full Time Lord in brown had apologized again and promptly heeded her request for privacy, leaving it to the part-human to pacify her anger and acquiesce to her needs.

He’s had a habit of doing that, lately. Just bowing out altogether after a day’s adventure, leaving the two of them alone. She made it clear from day one that she wanted to resume a physical relationship with both of them, or at the very least a romantic one. It was already out in the open that she loved them both. But even though the part human had admitted he loved her on the first night and they’d been shagging since the third, the Time Lord remained reticent to give himself back to her in any sort of intimate fashion. It was similar to before she left; he was holding himself back and quietly stewing in his own angst when he thought she couldn’t see. Only now, they didn’t have the shagging to dissipate that tension and quell his fears, and time is only exacerbating the problem. She can see in his eyes sometimes, something there like he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her, deserves to have her. But that his more human counterpart is, and does.

She had asked the part-human weeks ago why the other Doctor hadn’t initiated anything physical yet, since they were supposed to be the same man, and this version of him certainly seemed randy for her every night. He’d told her that if he knows the Time Lord (and they both know he does), he’s still afraid of their mismatched lifespans. That it’s jealousy of his part-human counterpart’s single heart and ability to grow old with her that keeps his feelings at bay. He’s afraid, and he thinks if he pushes them both away for long enough, Rose will lose her conviction not to leave either of them and settle down with the one who’s willing to give her what she wants.

It tugs at her conscience every night she spends with the part-human Doctor. He couldn’t be more wrong. But what more can she do? She invites him to join them every night. Early on she offered to take turns with them, to switch off between bedrooms if being with the three of them together is too awkward for him.

The first time around, it took him more than a year to be emotionally prepared to spend the night with her. She knows it’s an intimate thing, much more so for a Time Lord than a human, and she was always respectful of that. But since they had already discovered one another so intimately before Canary Wharf, and seeing how ready the part-human Doctor was to reignite their passion, she hadn’t expected it to be such a different story with the Time Lord. She thought at the very least her attempts at seduction in private, outside of earshot of the other Doctor, would eventually make him cave. But her little tugs on his elbow, the way she runs his fingers down his tie, the looks of lust she gives him when they have a moment alone, they don’t get through to him. He still just wishes her a goodnight and does a poor job of hiding the pain on his face with a fake smile. And it breaks her heart.

The Doctor in blue brings her a tray full of delicacies of the planet, which she scarfs down in a matter of minutes. He leans on his elbows on the floor next to her and watches her with rapt attention, either not caring about or pretending not to notice the jail cell stench on her skin. She desperately needs a shower. Once her stomach is full, the layer of dried sweat and grime on her skin and the rotten smell clinging to her shirt start to make her feel sick again.

“I’m gonna get in the shower,” she mumbles as she gets to her feet. She kicks her leftovers in his direction before she heads in the direction of the loo.

“I could join you?” he offers eagerly. She turns to find him on his feet, as well, waiting eagerly for her response with wide eyes, like a dog begging for a treat or walk.

She wants to say no. He deserves to hear no. They both really cocked it up today. But she can’t help melting at the apologetic look on his face, the softness in his eyes and the hesitant smile barely curving his lips. She’s only been back in this universe with them both for a few weeks, nowhere near long enough to not miss him when they’re apart more than an hour. The entire time she was standing in that cell, she couldn’t wait to be in the safe warmth of his arms again; of course she wants to shower with him. And cuddle with him and kiss him and shag him rotten. But she also wants him to learn his lesson. Well, the pair of them.

But she can’t resist that face.

“Fine,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes he can’t see.

But he grabs her arm before she can re-enter the door she’d barged through in search of toothpaste, that leads to a small loo with little more than the basics – shower, toilet, sink, and a vanity too small to see anything below the neck. She knows which door leads to the main archway of the castle: it’s the one adorned with several types of baroque locks (none of which the Doctor has felt the need to latch). A third door she guesses must lead to the Time Lord Doctor’s adjacent room, as it’s the way he left theirs earlier. She hadn’t yet ventured a guess what may lie on the other side of the fourth door, but she was halfway convinced it must be a closet. Why would any guest accommodations have two bathrooms? But as he takes her hand and leads her to it, she second guesses her assumption.

When the door creaks open, Rose gasps.

Well, this is better than a regular, old loo.

Tucked into the back corner of the small, square room is a large bath. Water streams from a golden faucet and splashes onto the steaming surface below, the constant, soft churning sound of it filtering through the air. A wide array of stairs tapers to the left, inviting its visitors inside. The walls and ceiling of the room and every visible surface of the bath are all a soft shade of olive that make the room seem as organic and alive as a nook of rainforest. Lanterns flicker with pink light on each corner of wide ledge of the bath, dancing flames encased by intricate swirling patterns of black metal.

The warm, humid air is heavy in her lungs and fills her nose with roses and eucalyptus, and steam condenses on her skin and heats up her cheeks. She quickly becomes desperate to disrobe, and muses to herself that the small room was likely designed to facilitate long periods of comfortable nakedness. The Doctor had said it was their equivalent of the honeymoon suite, after all.

“’S beautiful,” she admits in reverence.

The Doctor hums quietly behind her in agreement.

The Doctor has seen her unclothed enough times that she doesn’t hesitate to shed her layers despite her residual irritation, pulling off her jacket and shirt first, then shimmying her borrowed trousers down her legs and kicking them off. She unclasps her bra and lets it fall to the olive-tiled floor with the rest of her clothes, and pushes off her knickers and steps out of them.

Taking a few hesitant steps toward the bath, she sees rose petals scattered across the gently rippling surface, and inhales a deep, steamy breath to get a concentrated dose of the refreshing, floral scent of the water. She circles around to the left to climb the shallow steps, while the Doctor kneels down to untie his red Chucks. Three steeper steps lead down into the bath, and she stretches out her leg at the edge of the highest step to dip her big toe beneath the surface. She breathes out a happy sigh. The temperature of the water is perfect for the unusually warm room; it’s comfortably heated but not so hot that it will force its users out within ten or twenty minutes, as a normal spa might do.

As she descends down the short steps and drops down to submerge her body up to the shoulders in the fragrant, cleansing water, she watches the Doctor. He’s already kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his jacket, and his fingers are pulling impatiently at the knot in his tie. But when he catches her staring at him, he slows down his movements. He gets the knot loosened, and slowly pulls the silk through his fingers until it’s hanging around his neck, and one corner of his mouth pulls up. It’s not quite a smile, but a familiar, overconfident smirk he reserves for moments like these, to tell her he has something spectacular planned.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, his voice dipping down an octave as he pulls his tie through his collar achingly slowly.

“Gorgeous.” She tries to mimic his seductive tone. It really does. She already feels worlds cleaner just feeling the gently agitated water lap against her prison-sullied skin, and wonders briefly if there are weird alien cleansing agents in the water. Being chest-deep under the calming water, breathing in the soothing steam of flowers and burning candles, it’s incredibly hard to stay angry with the Doctor. Especially watching him unclasp the buttons on his Oxford one by one. The way his long, pale digits effortlessly find and release the small buttons reminds her of certain other… delicate tasks those hands are capable of. Heat flashes between her legs.

To distract herself from his striptease, she turns to the adjacent wall, zeroing in on a collection of white and pastel pink bottles next to a wooden basin perched on the ledge.

“Which one’s which, d’you think?” she whispers, not really expecting him to hear or answer her.

“Wait for me,” he says, his voice quiet but pleading, and she turns back to him.

His torso is bare now, his shirt on the floor with his jacket, shoes and tie, his hands fixed on his fly drawing her gaze to his crotch. The button pops open and he drags the zip down, then pushes his fingers under the waistband and slides the trousers down over his hips. He takes his pants down with them, and they both bunch at his ankles. He leans down to pull them off, and one foot steps out of the bundle of cloth easily, but his other foot gets stuck in his pants, and he stumbles forward and nearly falls. She’s overtaken with giddy laughter as she watches his cock jump up and down as he hops around to free himself.

He finally shakes the trousers off his ankle and turns to face the tub, completely nude now, bare toes wriggling on the tile.

“Well, _that_ wasn’t sexy.” He avoids her eyes, and his bottom lip pouts out just slightly. She rolls her eyes. She knows he only ever does that to get attention, but it always works on her regardless. That bottom lip is as delicious as it is adorable.

“Stop being daft and just get in here.”

He skips up the steps, and his feet splash in the water in his rush to join her. Water washes over her collarbone as he wades over to her, though it’s only up to his mid-thigh. He slips past her, though, reaches for the basin on the ledge, and carries it over to the faucet to fill it with fresh water. It lends her an excellent view of his taut, slender bum. He sets the bowl back down, and reaches his hand down, entreating her to stand with him, and she lets him help her to her feet.

She’d been afraid to leave the comforting warmth of the water and expose her skin to the air, but her earlier hypothesis had been correct. There’s no unpleasant chill wafting over her stomach or wet hair as there would be getting out of the shower, her nipples don’t harden with temperature shock. It’s perfectly comfortable to stand in the open air with soaking wet skin.

His eyes rake down her naked body, stopping once at her breasts and again just beneath her waist, and they’re much darker when they snap up to meet hers. He reaches over to select a candy floss-colored bottle of soap, and dips his hand inside the basin to pull out a thick, coral sponge. Twisting off the cap of the bottle, he slathers the syrupy, shimmering pink liquid onto the sponge before dipping it back into the basin and sloshing it around. New scents swirl through her nostrils – cherry and vanilla. He sets the bottle back on the ledge and gives her his undivided attention once more.

“May I?” he breathes, holding out the sponge towards her.

She nods slowly, and he raises the sponge to her chest.

The Doctor’s hands are exceedingly gentle, one at her waist to hold her still and the other circling the sponge over her sternum and collarbone with light pressure. It looks like a chunk of coral, but it feels divine. It’s softer than her loofa back on the TARDIS, and the rich lather of the soap is silky against her skin. It tickles, too, just a little, as he massages across her shoulders, gently exfoliating away dirt and sweat and any remnants of that jail cell.

He brushes the sponge up and down her right arm with in slow strokes as rivers of foam drip down from her elbow and hand and trickle onto the water below. Thorough as always, he runs the sponge over her palm and between her fingers, and raises her hand to get to her underarm. That tickles, especially, and when she lets out a childlike giggle, he echoes it. He uses the same technique on her other arm, and then reaches over to rinse the sponge in the basin and squeeze a streak of fresh soap onto it.

“The water comes from natural hot spring a few miles from here,” he explains in a quiet, soothing tone as he touches the sponge between her breasts. “The eucalyptus you smell is actually _phalcineolea_. It’s a type of water lily native to this planet.” He tenderly lifts her breast with his palm to clean underneath with the sponge. “Its essential oils leach into the springs during flowering season, and it’s very popularly used for bathwater.”

It’s just like the Doctor to take advantage of any quiet moment to impart cultural knowledge, even if that moment is one that’s overtly intimate. She doesn’t mind it, in fact it’s gotten to the point that it turns her on even more, especially when he talks all low and husky like he is now. He draws soapy circles over the surface of her breast, taking extra care to use feather light pressure when the sponge brushes over her areola. She shivers at the touch and her hands clutch at his waist, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

“The water turns over every three and a half minutes,” he continues, even more quietly, as he shifts the sponge to give her other breast the same treatment. “So you can relax as long as you’d like without the water getting murky.” A soft moan escapes her lungs when he rolls her nipple in a few quick circles beneath the sponge, and she involuntarily arches her hips forward.

Two soft plops behind her and a ripple of water on the backs of her thighs suddenly alert her to the presence of a third person in their bath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I forgot to mention when posting the previous bit: there is no 'Tencest' in this fic. Apologies to those of you who like it! It's just not for me. Like at all lol. Also, forgot to mention the inspiration for this bath came from [this post](http://tenscupcake.tumblr.com/post/136901173399)!

Too relaxed and rapt with pleasure, she hadn’t heard the door. A second pair of arms wraps around her stomach before she can turn around. She immediately recognizes the tall, lanky form of the figure behind her as it presses into her back: the Doctor. Well, the other Doctor. Her fully Time Lord Doctor. She tries to contain her elation that he’s finally joining them, and rather than utter a sound to welcome him, she wriggles her bum back until she feels a tuft of hair and his flaccid length against the small of her back. Soft lips press against the side of her neck and she opens her eyes, warmly greeted by his perfectly wild, lush brown hair.

The other Doctor reaches over to lift a second sponge out of the basin, and he smears some more soap onto it before handing it to the Time Lord. His arms unwind from around her belly and the second sponge presses between her shoulder blades as the first touches her stomach. She lets her eyes drift closed again as they wash her, soft scrubs over her abdomen and her back as trails of foam slide wetly down her body. They’re both keeping their bodies close to hers, close enough that she can feel their radiating body heat, and each one keeps a large hand on the curve of her waist. Being in the middle of a Doctor sandwich is not something she’s ever going to complain about.

She tries to let their ministrations relax rather than excite her, because she wants to stay angry with them. Or if not angry, at least aloof. And she definitely wants to see how far they’ll both go to make this mess up to her. But the _two_ completely unclothed Doctors surrounding her, and the fact that only inches from her center are _two_ of the Doctor’s…

She blushes, trying to shoo the word and the image from her mind.

As both the Doctors’ hands move lower on her body, it becomes more and more difficult to do that.

The sponge on the small of her back stills, and a hand ghosts over the curve of her bum, palm and fingertips barely making contact. She tenses with anticipation.

“This okay?” the owner of the hand breathes next to her ear. When she doesn’t respond immediately, he darts his tongue out to rim the shell of her ear, and a shudder ripples down her body. She can feel the smile on his lips as he pulls her earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it gently. The Doctor in front of her, in the meantime, has dropped to his knees and taken to scrubbing over her hipbones and between her thighs. She doesn’t want to respond at all; her voice may break the spell they’re both under. Or wake her from this extraordinary dream, one of the two.

“Rose?” he prods her, his breath hot beneath her ear.

“Yeah.” The word comes out all high and strangled sounding.

But she doesn’t wake up. And neither Doctor disappears.

The Doctor behind her wraps his arm around her and splays his fingers on her stomach, and the sponge replaces his other hand. He’s thorough with the delicate task, and she does her best to relax her muscles and not clench as he maps out the curve of both cheeks before moving down the backs of her thighs.

Satisfied enough with her front for the time being, the part-human Doctor steps away from her. She doesn’t open her eyes, but a brief waterfall of sound tells her he’s dumped out the basin into the water below. A few long seconds of sloshing and trickling pass as he refills it with clean water from the faucet.

“Want to wash your face yourself?” He’s suddenly very close.

“You can.” As much as she’d like to deny it, her voice trembles with want.

Her legs cleansed down to the surface of the bathwater, the Time Lord pulls away from her, too. She can hear him wading through the water and fiddling with another bottle on the ledge as a gentle hand cradles her cheek. He’s gentler here than he has been anywhere else, using only a thin corner of his sponge to wipe her forehead and cheeks and nose and chin of sweat and oil. Once he’s washed everywhere else, his thumb swipes over her bottom lip before his hands leave her face, and her mouth parts as he pulls it away, searching.

“Close your mouth.”

She seals it shut just as the edge of the basin touches her hairline and a stream of water flows down her face to wash away the suds. She opens her eyes as he pours the rest down her shoulders to rinse her body, and his eyes are dark, jaw clenched with lust, and when she glances down she gasps at how enormously hard he is. He’s never had to wait so long so be inside her once he got her clothes off; it’s got to be killing him. Now that he’s part-human, he’s hardly different from any other bloke.

She closes the distance between them and pulls him down for a searing kiss. It’s a strange feeling, to kiss someone with a dry face when yours is soaking wet. She smears water over his parched lips and combs her dripping fingers his soft, dry hair, product clinging to the moisture on her hands and leaving them sticky. Breathing a sigh against her lips, he hooks an arm around her back and dips his other hand between her thighs, grazing the skin with his fingertips. She presses against him and clutches at fistfuls of his hair to encourage him, and he reaches two fingers up to nudge apart her lips and dip inside.

She breaks the kiss with a harsh gasp, her arms tight around his neck to keep herself upright. The pads of his fingers circle around her entrance to collect moisture, then glide through her folds to her clit, barely touching it once as his fingers tease around it a few times.

“I think…” Another brief stroke against her clit that makes her whisper his name. “This is more than just the bath water, mmm?” He only talks like this when he’s trying to make her come. It’s not fair that he’s wielding his voice as a weapon prematurely. With one last touch to where she’s throbbing for him, he pulls away.

She has no time to mourn his loss before the Time Lord takes his place, sealing his mouth over hers and pulling her against his body. He’s not hard yet, but he did always need more time than she’d expect to get himself ready. His kiss is slow and tender where the other Doctor’s had been rough and messy with unchecked desire. She melts into him, her legs turning to jelly beneath her until she’s just floating on the water, letting him support her weight as he pushes his tongue into her mouth for the first time since their reunion.

It’s far too soon that he eases out of the kiss with a few tender pecks before pulling away. He reaches to the ledge for a bottle.

“Turn.” He motions with his index finger for her to face away from him. When she turns, she finds the part-human in the middle of bathing himself, scrubbing the sponge across his chest and then down his stomach.

A cool squirt of liquid spreads across the top of her head, and then his fingers are there, working it into a lather through her hair. She purrs and her eyes drift closed as she leans her head back into his hands, and the bright, clean scents of lemon and cotton filter through the air as he works it deeper into her roots.

“Oi,” the Doctor behind her admonishes. She doesn’t want to risk opening her eyes yet, but tilts her head back questioningly.

“Wha’?” she slurs, dazed by the way he’s massaging his fingertips on her scalp.

“Not you,” he says, more quietly.

Tipping her head forward once more, she peeks one eye open and sees a deep blush of pink on his cheeks. Confused as to why it’s there, she cautiously lets her narrow gaze wander down and she sees fresh rivulets of foam trickling down his swollen, reddened cock. She has to bite her lip to keep from whimpering in pity for him.

She tries to remind herself that he deserves to wait, after what they’d both done. His patience will pay off, after all. She’d never let him suffer needlessly.

Only when her entire head feels like a mountain of bubbles does the Doctor allow her to sink down into the water and dip her head back to rinse away the shampoo.

When she resurfaces and rises to her feet, the Doctor starts spreading silky conditioner through her hair. The part-human is hurriedly rubbing some of the shampoo through his hair, sending flecks of lather in every direction and making his hair point straight up in unnaturally thick spikes. Putting some extra care into the back of his neck and around his ears and sideburns, he ducks down and submerges himself completely in the water. He pops back up with a deep, exaggerated breath, and shakes his head to fling water right in her face.

“Oi,” she giggles, splashing him with a slap of her hand across the water.

There’s conditioner spread throughout her hair now, so she turns around and swipes the bottle of it from the ledge. Bringing it to her nose, she hums in appreciation. It’s floral and sweet, and reminds her of a lavender perfume her mum used to wear.

Striding purposefully over to the part-human, she squeezes some of the conditioner onto her palms and reaches her hands up, but realizes it’ll be more difficult than it needs to be to get it in his hair while he’s standing.

“Sit.” She nods her head towards the steps.

He obeys, sitting on the second step where the water is only about an inch deep, and she stands on the first to get a good height over him as she starts to work the conditioner into his wet, limp hair. He purrs unashamedly when she scratches her nails over his scalp, or when her thumb brushes over his ear just the right way, leaning into her every touch. As she works her fingertips through the roots on the back of his head, he slumps forward until his forehead is resting on her stomach, and groans low and long. He does love when she plays with his hair, but she’s never seen him this hot and bothered by it. It’s maddeningly arousing, and heat pulses between her legs. She brushes her thighs together for some friction, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. The Doctor’s tilts his head to brush a few open-mouthed kisses over her abdomen, and his tongue dips inside her bellybutton. Satisfied enough with her conditioning job, she yanks his head up by a fistful of hair and crushes her lips to his. He yields to her bruising kiss for several strokes of her tongue and nips of her teeth, but then slowly eases their mouths apart so he can speak.

“Come here,” he whispers. He beckons her down with him, and spreads his legs apart just enough that she can sit in between them.

It’s been (almost literally) painfully obvious how hard he’s been for several minutes, but feeling his hot, wet length pushing into her lower back, as hard as the stone beneath her bum, is another thing entirely. Her center pulses with every heartbeat as she wriggles back against him, smiling when he groans against her hair.

The Time Lord, covered from head to mid-thigh in bubbles, is just dipping down into the water to rinse as she looks up at him. When he emerges, he ruffles excess water out of his hair with his long fingers, then walks over to retrieve the conditioner and deftly works it into his roots and pulls the tips up between his fingers.

Her hair is pushed to one side and the Doctor’s mouth latches onto her neck, and her head lolls to the side to expose more of her skin. Large hands come around breasts, fingertips zeroing in on her nipples, rolling in slow, synchronized circles until she’s panting in his arms.

His hair glistening with conditioner, the Time Lord retrieves a sponge from the basin once more, and drizzles some soap onto it.

“Think we missed a few spots,” he says with a gentle smile as he steps forward. She doesn’t know what she expects, but it isn’t for him to scoop his arm under her knee and lift one leg out of the water. He starts to rub the sponge over her knee and calf, and suddenly it makes more sense; the depth of the water had prevented them both from reaching there before. He extends her leg and follows a path down to her foot, scrubbing her ankle, arch, and instep, but when he uses his fingers to get between her toes, she squeals and jerks her foot out of his reach and it plops back into the water. He giggles back at her, and shakes his head as he lifts the opposite foot out of the water.

Though she watches him follow the same path down her other leg, she can hardly feel his sponge against her skin anymore. The tongue on her pulse point and ministrations on her breasts are overwhelming her senses, drowning out anything less pleasurable. As the Time Lord releases her leg with a splash back into the water, she leans back against a shoulder and surrenders to the sensations, closing her eyes. Just as she wriggles in his hold to rub her thighs together, the Doctor’s hand stills her hip.

His nose brushes against her shoulder as he shakes his head.

But then his hand delves between her legs, pushing them apart just enough to slide a single digit between her folds, and she sinks back against his chest with a cry of his name. His touch is light, barely stroking over her center, and she just wants to scream that she needs more and harder but she closes her eyes and bites her tongue, knowing if she rushes him he’ll never give it to her. He loves teasing her too much.

When his hand pulls away too soon, she opens her eyes ready to beg someone to touch her, only to see the Time Lord towering directly over her. Meeting her eyes, he sinks down onto his knees on the step below theirs, and with barely a touch of his knuckles on the inside of her thigh, nudges her legs further apart as he lowers his head to the inside of her knee. She responds immediately, spreading her legs against the other Doctor’s as the coarse flat of his tongue licks a jagged line up her thigh. His hands curl around her bum and squeeze as the other Doctor’s hands return their attention to her breasts, and she almost comes right then. Four of the Doctor’s hands on her body is nearly too much to take.

But then his tongue is _right there_ , gliding through her folds until it finds her clit, pressing wet and rough and warm just where she’s swollen and throbbing for him. Her part-human Doctor turns her jaw towards him to seal his lips over hers and swallow her cries with his mouth. One determined, skillful tongue laves circles around her clit and another brushes over her bottom lip, and she changes her mind. Two of the Doctor’s _mouths_ at once is pushing the limits of her sanity.

“Oh my, stars,” the Time Lord breathes heavily, pressing kisses along her lower abdomen. “You taste brilliant.” The Doctor kissing her moans noisily into her mouth in agreement.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, tearing her mouth away for just long enough to get the words out before his tongue quiets her again.

“Never.” His tongue delves deep between her folds again. Her hands clutch his head to urge him on faster, fingers combing through the wet clumps of hair slickened with streaks of conditioner. She slings her knee over his shoulder, pulling him in closer with her heel in the middle of his back, and he kneads her bum when she tries to rock upwards, keeping her completely still at his mercy. Another pair of hands continues to tenderly circle her nipples, and her mind empties of everything that’s happened in the last twelve hours. Suddenly she has no idea what she’s ever done to deserve such an outpouring of physical devotion.

Eventually, the kiss is broken when the part-human has to catch his breath, but his mouth continues to lavish affection to her neck and shoulders even as he gasps against her skin. The harmony of coarse and smooth, broad and narrow strokes of the tongue against her clit makes her head spin. He has a bit more stamina than the part-human, in that he doesn’t need to take breaks to breathe, and every time she gathers the courage to look down at him, she’s taken aback.

His hair is dark and dripping down his forehead and onto her skin, his eyes closed in reverence. His mouth caresses between her thighs with such passionate focus, like the only thing in the universe that matters in this moment is bringing her to orgasm. Conditioner smears white across her inner thighs where his hair brushes against her skin with every tilt of his head for a change in angle.

Behind her, the Doctor’s bony hips start to grind against hers in time to her ragged, wheezing breaths, his rigid, damp length rubbing against her bum, desperate for friction. Every moan that escapes her lips is echoed with a rougher one of his own, every cry of their name on her lips is answered with a softer prayer of hers.

It’s all too much.

Her back arches in warning, and the part-human’s hands wrap low around her stomach just in time to feel her tremble as she comes with sobs of their name. Both her Doctors hold her steady with strong hands as she soars with pleasure, slowing the strokes of his tongue until her entire body shudders, desensitized, under his touch.

She sags against one Doctor’s chest, panting, as the leg around other’s shoulder turns to gelatin and splashes into the water a dead weight.

She’s vaguely aware of two sets of lips, one messy and wet on the join of her shoulder, and another leaving soft pecks across her lower abdomen, as she recovers her consciousness.

When she can finally open her eyes, she is greeted by twinkling brown eyes and a shy smile, his chin sinking into her belly as he catches her looking. She grins down at him, ruffling his silky, slippery hair.

“How do you feel?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just above her bellybutton.

“Better.” He beams up at her as though she’d just applauded his performance. “Thank you,” she adds. She strokes her thumb down his cheek, and hopes he understands her gratitude is not for his oral skills, but for his decision to finally join them at last and let himself be happy.

They untangle themselves, and take turns rinsing the conditioner from each other’s hair (and she discovers that yes, finally, the Time Lord is as hard as the part-human) before they sink down to the bottom of the bath, leaning against the side. She’s submerged up to the collarbone, but the water only reaches just beneath their nipples. It’s so warm and steamy and the scent of soap and conditioner and roses is so wonderfully relaxing that she wants to fall asleep right here in the water, snug between her Doctors.

Speaking of the men, neither of them seems to be complaining that she got to come and they didn’t. And though they’re both undoubtedly still hard as rock, they aren’t pushing their cocks against her hip or smooth talking her into to touching them. She thinks about reaching out for one or both them (particularly to relieve some of the aching hardness the part-human must be experiencing, he’s been hard for probably forty-five minutes now). But she decides against it, for now, because she thinks they owe her this, after the stunt they pulled today. Being patient rather than only seeking their own gratification.

Not that either of them ever has. The Time Lord was very patient and generous, all those years ago, and the part-human is the least selfish bloke with human hormones that she’s ever slept with. (Not that her list of suitors is very long.)

So she just enjoys it for a while, reclining in the bath while the soothing water loosens the tension in her muscles and knots in her back. One Doctor combs his fingers through her wet hair, and another trails kisses over her shoulder and collarbone, waiting for her to be ready for whatever may come next.

“Sorry for what happened today.” The Time Lord breathes against her cheek.

“Mmm,” she groans, listless.

“I’m sorry, too,” the part-human agrees next to her ear.

“Thanks.” She fidgets a little, stirred from sleep by the warm breaths against her skin. “Both of you are idiots, though,” she adds, cracking a smile.

“We know,” they confess in unison.

She giggles.

Craning her neck to kiss the Time Lord’s cheek just shy of his mouth, she looks up at him from beneath her lashes and drags her tongue across her upper lip.

“What do you think, ready for bed?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, and his answering nod is almost hesitant. Ego stroked, she turns to the part-human.

“And you, Doctor?” She traces his sideburn with her fingertips. With a shiver, he vigorously nods his head.

Leaving a trail of puddles in their wake, they step out of the water and tiptoe across the floor to the towel rack on the wall next to the door. The plush, absorbent fabric dries her skin in a matter of seconds, and the three of them rub their towels on their heads to dry out their hair at the same time. She laughs at the disheveled, fluffy spikes atop their heads, and they laugh at the blonde tangles and frizz she can feel on hers.

Dropping her towel to the floor, she swings open the door and dashes for the king-sized bed in the center of the suite. The bed is quite high, so she leaps onto the edge and crawls to the center, lying back on the pillows, waiting for the Doctors to join her.

When the first strolls into the room, he stands at the foot of the bed, his cock reaching eagerly for the ceiling, and his eyes glaze over with lust as they travel down her exposed curves. As she ogles his slender musculature with anticipation of her own, she realizes that she doesn’t know which Doctor this is. Nothing physical can differentiate them aside from the color of their suits, or if they choose to style their hair differently that day. As both of them are naked and share the same damp, fluffy mane for now, she needs touch to ascertain his identity.

At the twinge between her legs, she discovers just how much that prospect excites her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! I hope you all like the smuffy conclusion :P

He clambers onto the bed, and his eyes darken as he prowls towards her, a mouse caught in the eyes of a snake. The other Doctor wanders into her line of sight, but she’s unable to greet him in any way before the Doctor looming over her preys on her mouth. His kiss is ravenous, his tongue sloppy with desire, and his teeth click against hers when he adjusts the angle to deepen it further.

Her best guess at the moment is that this is her part-human Doctor. Tuning in her senses, she thinks the temperature of his mouth feels right for him, it’s not as warm as hers, but she thinks not as cool as the Time Lord’s. He sinks down until his skin is touching hers, and his swollen cock presses against her hip. She gasps into his mouth at how hot and rigid he is, and he grinds against her slowly with a muted, restrained moan. Like he’s trying not to completely lose it.

She’s nearly positive this is the part-human. He’s been patient long enough, and it’s taking its toll. Just to be absolutely certain, she skims her hand down his neck and over his collarbone, stopping in the middle of his chest.

A single heart thumps wildly against her palm.

She guides her hand down to where his erection is rubbing against her thigh, and her fingers close around his shaft. He bucks into her hand with a noisy, throaty moan that sends vibrations through their lips. With a satisfying smack, she pries his mouth from hers with a firm push on his chest.

“You’ve been hard for a while now, haven’t you?” she purrs, her best effort at a seductive tone as she pushes and pulls her fist up and down his length.

“Yes,” he pants, thrusting into her hand. “OhfuckRose.” His jaw goes slack, his words breathless. “You make me _so…_ ”

She takes pity on him. He’s been nothing but wonderful and patient this evening.

The mattress dips slightly as the Time Lord joins them on the bed, but the Doctor in her hand doesn’t seem to notice his presence, lost in the tugging sensation of her hand. She looks over to him for approval of what she’s about to do, to make sure he’s okay with being a spectator. He’s masking his emotions well, but his shallow breaths, taut muscles, and prominent member leave no question that he’s just as aroused. With a small nod, he gives her his subtle consent to continue.

She worms her body back on the mattress and wriggles her hips until she can guide his cock between her legs. He readjusts his hips to help her poise him at her entrance, ready to spring forward, but just to tease him a little more, she pulls her hand up and slides the head of his cock through her warm, slick folds. She looks up at him with hooded eyes and bites her lip as she pleasures herself, rubbing the tip slowly over her clit. Though he doesn’t break their gaze, she can tell he’s about to explode. A vein on his temple looks about to burst through his skin, his breathing is shallow and ragged, and his jaw is clenched tightly to keep from either begging or screaming, she’s unsure which.

Amazed that he held out, she guides him back to her entrance and releases her grip.

He thrusts inside of her to the hilt, forgoing both of his usual precautions (he normally asks if she’s ready and pushes inside of her slowly and carefully to avoid causing any discomfort). The sensation is admittedly overwhelming: it knocks the wind from her lungs to be so suddenly and completely filled. She arches up into him with a sharp gasp, and his head falls onto the pillow next to her head with a deep groan before his manners catch up with him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the pillow before tilting his head. “You all right?” he rushes out just next to her ear.

“Just stay.” She touches a hand to the middle of his back to still him. “Just for a mo’.”

“Course,” he whispers, leaning closer to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw. The Doctor is generously endowed, and until now he’s always provided her more time to adjust to him. It feels like he’s everywhere inside of her, not just stretching her walls but swelling into her very being. His lips shower her neck with soft kisses, it only takes a few deep breaths for the shock to subside and the fullness to become pleasurable.

She slides one hand down to cup his arse, and wriggles her hips to signal him to move.

Though she knows he must be going mad by now, he’s gentle as ever, his pace slow and steady. He does all the work for her, too, holds one of her knees up with his arm and angles his hips so she can wrap the other around his thighs and just take him in, thrust after thrust. The delicious push and pull of their bodies has her grasping at the duvet and pleading for more.

The Doctor swears at the sound of her begging.

“You feel… hhhh… so good,” he huffs. “Love… mmmh... being inside you.”

He reaches down to kiss her, delirious with lust, and it’s wet and a bit messy with his movements. It’s a tender gesture, but he can’t maintain his technique and the even timing of his smooth thrusts in the new position. But before things start to get bumpy and awkward, a hand rests over hers where it clutches the duvet, circles around her wrist, and tugs. She lightly pushes up against the part-human until he gives up trying to kiss-and-shag, and looks over to the other Doctor.

He looks left out. And there may be a trace of jealousy in the set of those eyebrows over deep brown eyes. She suddenly feels a pang of regret for tacitly agreeing to this arrangement. She looks back into the eyes of the Doctor inside her, and he nods in his counterpart’s direction as he fixes his rhythm, going even deeper than before with more powerful thrusts.

With him occupied driving into her, the Time Lord slides closer on the duvet until he can steal a kiss of his own. It’s slow and passionate, with a finesse that the part-human couldn’t achieve in his current position. It’s a strange feeling, at first, to be able to share a lingering, deep kiss while being thoroughly shagged, but certainly not one she’s going to complain about. She pulls the part-human in closer with her hand on his arse, spurring him on faster, while tangling her fingers in the other Doctor’s hair, kissing him with abandon.

The thrusts of the former quickly become rapid and shallow. Watching them snog must be turning him on too much.

With a few final grunts of exertion, he buries himself deep and spills inside her, crying out his release with a gorgeous moan that she echoes against the Doctor’s lips. The Time Lord pulls away so his duplicate can collapse on her chest.

“Shit,” he breathes against her forehead.

She promises him it’s all right, and he gives her a conciliatory kiss.

As soon as he rolls off of her, she turns her attention towards her second suitor, pushing him down onto his back and straddling him. He hisses and mutters something in Gallifreyan as she sinks down onto his length with little warning, fingertips digging into her thighs. She doesn’t need any time to accommodate him, this time, and sets up a punishing rhythm that has him squirming and incoherent beneath her. He’s beautiful to watch. She’s waited weeks to see her Time Lord’s broody face twisted in pleasure, to watch him come apart for her again at long last.

She can feel the part-human’s eyes on her as she steadies her hands on his tight abdomen and undulates her hips a little faster. When she glances over to gauge his comfort level with voyeurism, his gaze is fixed on where they’re joined, watching as she takes him in again and again with each rise and fall of her hips. A bit of drool leaks out of the corner of his mouth.

 “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, mesmerized by their coupling.

The Time Lord has admittedly better stamina, and an innate telepathic ability to sense what his partners are feeling, so he holds out for as long as she needs him to.

But the part-human gets more and more aroused simply by watching, crawling closer on the bed until he’s right up against her, his hands grazing over her body, the arch of her back, the swell of her bum and curve of her hip. Before she can warn him against it, his cock rubs against her waist, miraculously hard again, and he hums appreciatively with the friction and the close-up view.

She doesn’t think its quite fair to this Doctor, since he has already had a turn, but when she looks down into the Time Lord’s eyes, he nods his head in approval.

“C’mere,” she says, swirling her finger to motion him behind her.

She climbs off the Time Lord as the other Doctor sits back on his heels, scratching the back of his head, slightly embarrassed as he awaits clarification. She turns around 180 degrees on his waist, and settles back down onto his length slowly in the reverse position, facing his feet. She holds onto his thighs for purchase and balance and lifts up and down a few times experimentally, testing the new angle, and tosses her head back with a whimper as the Doctor beneath her exhales deeply with relief.

Yep, it’s a good angle. She shudders out a few heavy breaths, and then returns her gaze to the nervous part-human, beckoning him forward with a curled finger.

She continues to gyrate her hips to keep one Doctor satisfied, and as his hips lift up to meet hers with grunts of pleasure, she knows he’ll be all right with whatever she has to do. 

He’s taller than she is, but not so tall that this won’t work. With some awkward coaxing, she gets him to kneel on either side of the Time Lord’s legs. She braces herself on the part-human’s hips, and he steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, and with only one slip and a few readjustments of hands, she continues her measured thrusts without either of them toppling over.

Comfortable with the rhythm, she leans forward carefully to take the tip of his cock between her lips, swirling her tongue in broad circles, and he breathes out a filthy curse as he tenses in her grip. This is the moment she’s been secretly waiting for, being able to play with them both at once. The movements of her hips guide her mouth on him, and he can’t handle the passivity very long before he starts to crave control and thrust into her mouth.

The Doctor beneath her groans and swears every few thrusts, and his hands have found a permanent home on her arse, rubbing and cupping and squeezing as she moves. She expected no less in this position – it’s there and it’s new and she can feel it flexing and tempting him and he’s a bloke. Alien or not, it was only a matter of time.

To experience both Doctors giving into the pleasure and hear them both chanting her name is dizzying, an experience she couldn’t have dreamt up on even her most randy nights on the TARDIS. The Time Lord jerks his hips harder, making her nails dig into the other Doctor’s hips as stars burst behind her eyes with the power of his thrusts against her ribbed front wall.

Just as her mouth falters on his cock with a breathless cry, his hand delves where they’re joined, fingertips tending to that neglected, swollen nub. Allowing herself to focus on her own pleasure as they do most of the work, she rubs against his hand and surrenders to it, tumbling over the edge with her tongue painting her cries along the shaft between her lips. The powerful spasms around the Time Lord’s cock bring him to his own climax mere seconds later, writhing under her weight as his warmth pulses inside of her.

She slumps exhausted against the part-human’s thigh as he slips out of her mouth, panting against his clammy skin as she trembles weakly with aftershocks.

He doesn’t beg her to continue, but she can feel him throbbing and hot against her neck, so she climbs off of the Doctor inside of her. Warm liquid trickles down her thighs and she tries not to wince at the sensation.

“Lie down,” she instructs the still achingly hard Doctor. He falls onto his back beside his twin immediately, and she sinks onto her hands and knees and takes him back in her mouth. Concentrating on him now, she wraps her hand around what her mouth can’t reach, pushing and pulling in tandem with the strokes her her tongue. The other Doctor gets some cloth to clean her up while she’s occupied, and she thanks him silently with a squeeze of her hand on his arm.

The Doctor at her mercy is ridiculously loud. She knows it’s his favorite thing in the world to have her lips and tongue and teeth on his cock, and she takes full advantage of that knowledge. The Time Lord lies on his side to watch as he gets closer to the edge, his face contorted with pleasure, eyes cemented shut and hands fisted in the duvet and pulling so hard she hears it rip more than once.

She slides her tongue around his shaft in a swirling pattern and suckles the head between her teeth with every bob of her head. Lets him slip from her mouth completely once or twice so she can whisper his name. Hums around his tip, enjoying the rush of power she gets as the vibrations make him push uncontrollably into her mouth. When his fingers bury in her hair to urge her on faster, she calms her pace instead, dragging her tongue along his length achingly slowly. Prolonging the inevitable purely to torture him.

But it’s so worth the wait, when she hollows out her cheeks and he bucks up into her mouth and goes rigid with the intensity of his orgasm, and it takes him so much by surprise that his scream gets caught in his throat and no sound comes out at all. The salty liquid gushes on her tongue and she licks him dry, gently lapping every last morsel of the bitter pleasure from under his foreskin and around his slit. His muscles relax and he collapses back onto the bed with a tremendous groan, paralyzed with pleasure.

She grins, inordinately pleased with herself.

“ _That_ looked fun,” the other Doctor teases, and reaches over to pull her on top of him so he can kiss her thoroughly, his tongue delving between her lips to get a taste of his counterpart. They don’t taste exactly the same – the Time Lord’s is less salty and more bittersweet, while the part-human’s is saltier but also has a subtle savory flavor the former lacks. “Must try that on me sometime,” he adds suggestively between kisses.

They spend several minutes entwined together, each devouring the other, before the part-human stirs from his orgasm-induced coma.

He taps her calf with his foot, impatient for his turn to kiss her.

“Oi,” he whinges after a few long seconds without a response.

With a sigh, the Time Lord lets his twin have a turn.

\---

“What took you so long to join us?’ Roses asks the Doctor with two hearts, after several rounds of snogging that required alternating Doctors every couple of minutes. She hopes he knows she doesn’t just mean tonight.

He ponders for a moment, pursing his lips.

“I wanted to give the human some time to build up his stamina before he had to compete with me.” He winks.

Her one-hearted Doctor punches him in the arm.

“Oi, play nice!” she scolds him, but she can’t contain her giggles at the scowl on his face. “And you,” she directs her admonition to the Time Lord, “quit braggin’ about bein’ an alien.” She’s still high off the double dose of pleasure she’s received tonight, and doubts either of them will take her seriously.

He didn’t properly answer her question, but she figures he will, in time. Perhaps if they can find a moment alone. Neither of them likes to share while they’re around each other. She hopes someday they can push through that wall, if this is going to work in the long-term without her needing two separate rooms for them.

“We’re still very sorry, Rose,” the part-human changes the subject when neither of them speaks for a time. He leaning down to brush slow kisses over her collarbone and neck, slow and wet and sensual now that he’s sated, and she leans her head back to encourage him.

“We should never have taken that risk,” the other Doctor agrees. “Going there with only textbook knowledge was a huge mistake.” His mouth finds a place on her body, too, trailing over her shoulder and down her chest until he takes one of her breasts into his mouth and sucks her nipple gently between his teeth. She arches up into him, heat flaring in her abdomen that really shouldn’t be after the attention she’s already received from both of them.

Before she can register he’s moved, the part-human shifts his head lower to capture her other breast in his mouth, and she nearly faints right here on the bed. Even after everything they’ve already done, the onslaught of sensations is something she’s nowhere close to being accustomed to. A warm tongue on both of her breasts is something that shouldn’t be possible. But it’s happening, and it’s as overwhelming as it is impossible to comprehend. A few weeks ago, she would not have believed even her future self if she claimed there would soon be two of the Doctor in existence. Let alone that they would both, before long, be showering her with affection at the same time.

“Doctor,” she sighs, because it’s all she can think. Her every sense is still overflowing with input from him, every cell in her body is screaming his name.

They both look up, grinning mischievously.  

“Mmm?” one of them acknowledges.

“More,” is all she can eke out. She wriggles underneath them.

Four hands settle on her body obediently, but none of them are where she really wants them. One is on her face, cradling her jaw as one of them leans down for another kiss, his thumb stroking across her cheek. Another is between her legs, caressing the inside of her thigh with a feather-light touch, starting at her knee and climbing higher until it brushes the tuft of hair concealing her heated center before reversing its path. A third is on her breast, palm flat against her nipple and kneading in large, soft circle, and a fourth is on her stomach, fingertips tracing patters along her waistline, occasionally teasing the patch of short, dark hair but never dipping low enough. After a few minutes of this, she has completely lost track of whose hand is whose, and even which one is kissing her, but strangely she doesn’t care.

She tries to guide the hand on her stomach lower, but it pulls away. She squeezes her thighs together, trapping the hand between them, and sighs into the Doctor’s mouth with the morsel of friction it creates. The owner of this hand realizes that she can’t wait any longer, and pushes her legs apart so that two fingers can delve into her folds.

While pads of fingers roll tight circles over that bundle of nerves, a playful tongue plunders her mouth, stroking along hers slowly. Each of her hands combs through their damp hair as shivers trickle up her spine at the intensity of everything, being kissed and touched and held by _two_ of the man she loves most in the universe. Even lying down, completely passive under their focused ministrations, she’s feeling the effects of vertigo. Tingly sensations creep up her fingers and toes, maybe from sensory overload or hyperventilation, or perhaps both. The Doctor between her legs thrusts a few fingers into her heat as his thumb presses against her swollen clit, and suddenly it’s too much for her to handle.

Despite having just come twice in what can’t be more than an hour, the coiling tension in her belly snaps, the orchestra of pleasure harmonizing all over her body reaches its beautiful crescendo. She spasms around on the Doctor’s fingers and breaks the kiss to call out their name, grabbing a fistful of one’s hair and digging her nails into the back of the other’s neck. It seems to go on for ages, the waves of bliss rushing through her body as she rocks up into his hand, the Doctors slowing their movements to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

She finally floats down to earth, her limbs useless noodles in their arms and her mind a puddle of satiated goo.

They both apologize again in a hushed whisper, but she’s so delirious with happy hormones that she can’t remember why she was so angry with them.

“You both made it up to me,” she assures them both with a sleepy, contented sigh, her eyelids drooping.

They cuddle up next to her and a light blanket floats over their bodies up to the waist. Two arms around her stomach, one head pillowed against her breast and another nuzzling her neck, she doesn’t think she’s ever felt so comfortable and loved and _secure_.

Before she succumbs to sleep, she reaches a hand out to touch the Doctor to her right, resting in the middle of his chest. Two hearts beat a steady rhythm beneath her palm. She smiles.

“Both functioning properly, Miss Tyler?” the Doctor whose chest she’s touching teases.

“Just wanted to double check who was who,” she mumbles blearily.

“ _Double check!_?” the Doctor to her left exclaims, well above a whisper, and her eyes reluctantly peer open.

“Wha’?” She turns her head towards him.

“You didn’t already know?” he asks, scandalized.

“Well, I can tell usually," she defends herself. "And I knew at first. 'Course I did.” It’s not a lie, she would be able to discern them even without using the heartbeat trick if she were more awake and focused. They both have their own set of unique tells, and she’s picked up on even more of them throughout the night. “But I couldn’t think straight for a while there.” She nudges his leg with hers.

“Well,” he drawls, cocking his head to the side, and a huge grin dawns on his face.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the Time Lord adds.

“Please do.” Her eyes close against her will again as she rests a hand on each of the arms across her stomach. “’Sides, doesn’t matter so much. I love both of you.”

“Love you, too,” the Doctors murmur in unison.

Warmth blooms in her chest as she clutches the Time Lord’s arm a little tighter. It’s the first time he’s confessed it in so many words. Tilting her head to the side to see his face, she doesn’t see the fear or regret she expects in his features; sincerity exudes from his big brown eyes and he smiles gently. Sleepily. He looks as at peace as she feels.

As she lets her eyelids droop, she finds herself hoping they get into the habit of that, though, saying it in sync. It’s as adorable as it is reassuring when, even for a moment, they’re both thinking the same thing. And hearing both of them say it out loud together, after all the years he refused to admit it, is a beautiful thing.


End file.
